


TeeJay And What Came Before

by Jacen



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Funny, Happy Sex, Het
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacen/pseuds/Jacen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up in Tijuana with a hangover is only the beginning.  How Claire and Owen got there and what happened when they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TeeJay And What Came Before

_The problem with the sun,_ Claire thought, _is that there is too much of it, and it happens all at once._

She opened her eyes to painfully blinding light streaming in through the window and made a noise midway between a death rattle and a whine. Her second and third thoughts took their time, delayed as they were by the fog of yesterday's tequila.

_I am not alone in this bed. Everything sort of smells like donkey._

With exaggerated care (due to the way her whole body seemed to ache from exertion she couldn't remember), she bent her arm, found her face with her hand, and covered her eyes. Fragments were starting to come back now, of a creaky chair and a crappy bar, of strings of lights. Of...Owen? Probably? She moved, trying her legs, then using the hand that wasn't blocking out the hateful sun to pat along the sheets until she found another hand resting over her hip. She poked it with a finger. When that got no instant response, she risked a lighter touch. 

From what she could tell, it was a man's hand, certainly big enough to be Owens. When she ran her fingers along his, he moved closer, rubbing his chin against her back. The hand slid from under her fingertips, wrapping around her waist and dragging her closer under the sheets. She considered protesting, but that might require uncovering her eyes. Instead, she reached for where the nightstand probably was, seeking her phone or a clock or some other, non-sun, indication of what time it was. 

The body behind her grunted when she moved, pressed a very lazy kiss to one shoulder, then mumbled some noises that were, approximately, a morning greeting. Her probing hand still hadn’t come in contact with clock or phone, so she let it fall against the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “Good morning,” she said, enunciating carefully in case the motion of her jaw tilted the delicate balance that was keeping what was definitely shaping up to be a rager of a headache from descending. 

Another kiss mashed against her shoulder, then the warmth behind her moved. “How are you feeling?” 

That was definitely Owen’s voice. Owen’s chin scrubbing against her shoulder. Owen’s hand-

“Hey.” She swatted at his groping palm and the headache hit her with an almost audible ‘whomp’. Claire clamped both hands over her eyes with an exaggerated moan that turned to a whine when Owen retreated, leaving her to her misery as he navigated out of the bed and over to the window. She heard shutters close with a loud clack, peeking through a crack between her fingers to confirm the merciful darkness. 

“Guessing the answer is ‘hungover?’” he said, sitting next to her on the bed. A cool bottle of water nudged against her wrist, and she reluctantly accepted the offer. “Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked as she opened the bottle and took a long drink.

“Think so,” Claire answered, pushing her hair back off of her face. The headache thumped and she sank her face into the pillows. “Is this your place?” she asked, cracking an eye to look at him. “Please tell me this is your place.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know where we are,” he replied, shuffling to the window and opening two of the slats to peer outside. “Huh. Know what? I think we’re in Mexico.”

“...what.”

\------------------------------------

_Two days ago_

"Could've been worse?"

"How?"

Owen leaned back into the chair, then picked up the remote control and flicked off the TV. "They could have banished you back to the island?" he suggested, watching as Claire crossed to the far side of the sparsely furnished living room to put the phone back on the cradle. It was their second week in PR-imposed exile in the condo the company had generously provided them. The tedium was supposed to be therapeutic.

Claire glared at him, but there was no real anger behind it. What would be the point? Owen was possibly the only non-lawyer human being who was still talking to her. Half of the world was baying for her blood, and the rest would just settle for her money. Her lawyers kept telling her that it was because everything was still fresh, that the corporations would eventually absorb their share of the blame. It couldn't happen fast enough. “Thirteen more civil suits. Anderson Cooper wants to interview me tomorrow. They’re offering a hundred thousand if I’m willing to share time with Ian Malcolm.”

Owen patted the couch next to him and she sighed before joining him. His hands rested easily on her shoulders and began to rub, his thumbs digging into the knots forming at the base of her neck with practised ease. “Didn’t he call you a serial killer last week?”

“Mm, no. He called Hammond a serial killer,” Claire answered, leaning into the massage. “He called me a ‘soulless, ah, automaton’.” She closed her eyes as he adjusted her position, bringing her more in line to make his work easier. “Think Anderson Cooper would put that as my byline?”

“You could put it in your rider.”

She chuckled and slumped her shoulders forward. His hands followed the new shape of her back, kneading deep into the muscle. As his fingers found and worked through the tension, he nuzzled the back of her neck, placing a kiss on her nape. “I’m not doing the interview,” she said, tipping her head forward. He kissed her again, lips finding her shoulder as his thumbs rolled alongside her spine. “I’m not authorized.” He chuckled at her sarcasm, running his nose along her neck until she sighed. 

“I could go. I like Anderson Cooper.”

She laughed, the sound dying off to a gasp when he ran his lips over her pulse. “You’re staying with me,” she replied. “Survival, remember?”

One hand ran the length of her back as the other rubbed around her waist and pulled her backwards onto his lap. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, grinning as he kissed her on the cheek. She pushed back against him, turning her head to catch the next kiss with her lips rather than her jaw. Her right hand wandered his leg, pushing up his shirt, as her left covered his right on her stomach. “But for the record, I don’t think you’re soulless.” He bumped his hips against her and she grinned. “Maybe kind of an automaton, though.”

“Really?” She pouted, her fingers tracing the waistband of his pants. “Are you sure about that?” she murmured, kissing him and shifting herself to sit sideways so her hand could dip further. She felt the muscles of his stomach twitch when her fingers grazed across them and couldn’t keep her smile from returning at the kiss that immediately followed. 

“You’re being very convincing,” he said, his voice rough as his fingers ran along her thigh. "But I saw a movie about robots that look a lot like people yesterday. This could be a trick." Thanking herself for her remarkable foresight in choosing to wear a skirt, she parted her legs just enough to let his hand slip between. Her hand delved as his did, tracing his stomach, teasingly close to the swell she could feel against her leg. He was much more bold, running his fingers past her underwear with no hesitation. He found her warm and slick already. When he pressed and rubbed, her knees fell even further open and she lunged to kiss him with a gasp. 

Breaking away was hard-he stroked her urgently every time she tried to pull out of the kiss, until she bit his lip and squeezed her legs around his hand. He made a token attempt to squirm his hand free until she flexed her arm and wrapped her hand around his cock. "Beep," she said breathily, getting a blink and a chuckle in return. She cut off the laugh with a firm stroke. "You should really get those pants off. Boop." Another stroke to get her point across. She released the hand she had trapped, leaning in to lick at his jaw as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of his pants and dragged them down. Steadying herself with her free hand, she half-stood, leaving him room to disrobe while she nibbled her way past his stubble to give his ear a nip. "Beep. Don't forget mine," she purred as his pants hit the floor. He lost his laugh to another moan when she pumped her hand again, adding a slight twist. 

He was faster still with her skirt and underthings. Claire kicked them away as she swung one leg over his lap. "I swear I'm trying to think of a diagnostics joke," he said, his hands gripping her hips and guiding her down. She laughed, working him as she deliberately took her time. She enveloped him slowly, putting one arm around his shoulders for balance until he was entirely inside of her. He kissed her throat as she lifted, then lowered herself.

"Something about probing?" She suggested, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm. He laughed all the way into another kiss. Owen's fingers found their way up her back, tickling against sensitive spots all along her ribs. "Screws?" She giggled, her breath hitching as he tipped his hips underneath her. The new angle brought delicious friction; she wrapped both arms around his neck to keep herself from losing her balance in the sudden bolt of pleasure.

"First," he said, tightening an arm around her waist to keep her steady, "you're stealing all the good ones." Hips rocking and sliding, he began to tip her backwards. “Second, you missed drill.” She clung tighter, laughing a ‘yes’ into his neck as he laid her down. “And third, you forgot to say beep.” 

The giggles fountained up again, until he thrust deep, turning them to soft gasps. Claire’s hands gripped his biceps, her knees hooked over his hips. She bunted her nose against his as he began to draw out every stroke. When his eyes flicked up to meet hers, she grinned. “Beep,” she said, leaning up to bring him into another kiss. Every blissful second was driving her closer to her finish. As she felt herself starting to reach that crest, she clung even tighter, gripping handfuls of his shirt when the trembling began. She bucked her hips against him when her orgasm overwhelmed her, feeling every inch. Her throbbing brought him to the edge with her. Owen sagged on top of her as her body twitched around him, breaking the kiss to moan into her ear.

She held him until his shuddering ebbed, then squirmed to the side to let him lay down next to her. She yawned as his eyes drooped shut, guiding his arm around her waist. Their breathing slowed as they settled, Claire’s head on Owen’s arm, legs tangled, bodies close. “We should go to Mexico,” he murmured as he buried his nose in her hair.

“We’re not going to Mexico,” she answered, but by his breathing she knew he hadn’t heard her. She drifted off with a contented smile-it was a discussion they could have when they woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> This is spinning off of a prompt LeePace'sFace dropped in the comments of Clever. This might not be precisely what they were looking for, but I hope it's alright nonetheless. (It's also a response to a demand from the buddy who asked for Clever, who wanted more smut.)


End file.
